The Battle
by The Owl's Pen
Summary: Susan had grown accustomed to seeing her brothers go off to war, but she had yet to learn what it was to see Lucy in battle.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Thank you, C.S. Lewis.

**Rated: T **for intensity

*******

Susan had resigned herself to seeing her brothers go off to war.

She had resigned herself to seeing them come limping home, victorious but battered, on the brink of death or merely exhausted. She had grown used to biting down her screams of terror if Peter lifted Edmund from his horse, only to have the younger King's head loll on his brother's shoulder in a faint. She had learned not to cry for mercy if a shaken Edmund felt it necessary to tell her _in detail _exactly why Peter had come home a delirious mess of dented armor and patched-up wounds. And she had certainly learned not to _ask _how such things had occurred. She had acquiesced to the realization that her brothers would risk far more than she would ever be comfortable with, and that faith in Aslan's protection, Lucy's cordial, and her own devotion to their well-being were the only things she could trust to take comfort in. She had learned. It had taken years, and Susan had learned.

But she had yet to learn what it was to see Lucy in battle.

*******

Susan flung herself into her sister's arms, gasping with fright.

Not a minute earlier, an urgent shout from the courtyard had startled Susan. She went to the window in time to see Lucy – shaken and disheveled, her wine-colored cloak torn and streaked with mud - stumble on the pavement halfway between her horse and the Centaur guard, Delius. Muddied and pale, she fell into the Centaur's arms, while Delius looked aghast at his Queen's ragged state.

Susan had shrieked and run outside, grabbing at her sister as soon as she was in reach. Lucy looked even worse close at hand. Peter and Edmund, having heard both Susan's scream and Delius's cry of alarm, swooped upon them seconds later.

_"Lu!" _gasped Peter, anxiously catching his sister's face in his hands. "What _happened?"_

The younger Queen, although shaken, made it instantly clear that she was not badly hurt. _"Minotaurs!" _she spat angrily.

"Where? When? How many? _Are you hurt?" _Edmund demanded.

"On the near shore of Beruna, by the Great Bend. Not two hours ago. I don't know how many… too many!"

Peter grabbed her shoulders. "Are you _hurt?"_

Lucy actually managed a smile despite a painful bruise on her clear young face. "Not much, Brothers and Sister dear," she said, hugging Susan tightly. "My worst pain is that Mauris and Pellum died to protect me." She turned her face into her sister's shoulder, quivering.

The three elder siblings crowded around her, enfolding the young Queen into a single, defensive embrace. Susan snuggled her face into Lu's hair. "You're okay," she whispered, running her shaking hands over the crown of Lucy's head. "Thank Aslan, you're okay."

The Queen tried to ignore the fierce look that she knew Peter and Edmund would be sharing over their sisters' heads. It was the look Susan dreaded, for it meant her brothers knew and accepted the inevitability of battle. It meant that, while she had just gotten one sibling safely back by her side, two more were now to be put in danger. Susan hated that look, for it was one she knew she could do nothing to influence, no matter how she might wish otherwise.

Edmund backed away reluctantly. "We'll be off, then," he said, kissing first Lucy and then Susan.

Peter was a little longer in holding his baby sister, but when he pulled back his face was tight with resolve and pride. "Thank you, Lucy. You've been very brave today."

"I don't feel brave," the young Queen shuddered. "Just angry."

"Aye," Edmund nodded.

Peter dropped a kiss on each of his sisters' faces. "Take care of her, Susan."

"Take care of Edmund. And yourself," Susan insisted. "For if you don't, then so help me Peter…" Her voice trailed away, all pretense of sternness fading as she stared at her brother, hoping he could see and understand…

She needn't have worried. Peter's blue eyes softened for a moment, and his lips formed the words _I know. _

"Your Highness!"

Oreius cantered over the stone, bearing Peter's Rhindon. Behind him, Delius carried Edmund's sword and shield.

A flash the color of steel invaded the High King's eyes. Susan mourned it, the change from loving brother to wrathful warrior as he clapped a hand on his fellow King's shoulder. "Come, Ed."

"Be _careful," _Susan couldn't help reminding them.

"Shall," Edmund said, quirking his sisters a grim smile as he and Peter joined the Centaurs in preparation for battle.

Susan shivered, distracting herself by taking a moment to thoroughly examine Lucy's face. Her darling Queen was a good deal bruised and cut up, but appeared to be more exhausted and angry than much injured. The older sister sighed gratefully and kissed Lucy's forehead.

"Come, dear. You'll feel better after a good meal."

"And a bath," Lucy grimaced, trying to brush a smear of mud from the sleeve of Susan's new dress. "Dear me… I've made such a mess of you…"

"Better you make a mess of my gown than my heart," Susan returned, her voice low as she smoothed straggling hairs away from her sister's face. "You've come home safe, and by Aslan's grace Peter and Edmund shall too. I ask for nothing more just now."

The younger Queen shook her head. "Mauris and Pellum," she quavered, her voice slurred with emotion. "Susan, if I could wish anything right now…"

The elder Queen hugged her, finding it impossible to speak. Impossible to be as grieved as she should be over the deaths of the good Faun and Gazelle who had sacrificed themselves to save Lucy's life. Impossible because she still feared for the young woman who now stood in the safety of her arms. So Susan said nothing, just held her sister for a long moment and then drew her toward the castle.

At the top of the steps they heard a booming noise, and they turned to see a flurry of red and gold streaming over the drawbridge, shouts and the clanking of metal providing a ringing accompaniment to the rhythm of clattering hooves on thick wood. Near the front of it all, Edmund and Peter were riding close to one another, their heads tilted together. _Discussing strategy, no doubt, _Susan thought grimly. She gripped Lucy's arm and started to pull the younger Queen inside. But her sister stood rigid. Susan turned her head. Lucy stared after the army, her eyes wide.

"Lucy?"

Lu shook her head slowly. "I should go with them," she whispered.

"_Lucy!"_

"I should have offered to lead them…"

"Peter wouldn't have let you," Susan said firmly. "And you've told them where to find the invaders."

Lucy shook her head and made as if to go to the stables, her steps uncertain. "They might have changed camps by now."

"Which means _you _won't know precisely where to find them, either!" Susan countered, not loosening her grip on her sister's arm. "Peter told me to take care of you, remember?"

The younger Queen stood irresolute, rocking lightly on the balls of her feet as she considered. Then the motion set her off-balance, and the matter was decided as she staggered wearily against her sister's shoulder.

Susan caught at her, silently thankful. "Let's get you to bed."

*******

"Lucy?"

"Come in," her sister called from the other side of the door.

Susan pushed the door open with her hip, a tray balanced carefully on her fingertips. "I brought you some tea, I – _Lucy!"_

The tray – and the promised tea – hit the floor, and Susan gasped in fright at the sight of her sister down on her knees, huddled over the tub.

The younger Queen straightened up hurriedly, tossing her sopping hair over her shoulder with a wet _smack _against the back of her robe. "Calm down Susan," she said patiently. "I was just trying to get the rest of this gunk out of my hair… I didn't realize it was so matted when I washed it."

Susan took a deep breath and picked the now-dented tea tray up from the floor. She willed her heart to slow, trying to banish from her mind the false image of an injured Lucy collapsed on the floor. "Let me see what I can do," she said, turning to go into the bedroom. "Maybe I can get the knots out."

"You're an angel if you can," Lucy sighed, sinking down onto a hassock. "I've been at it for ten minutes now."

The elder Queen picked up a comb from Lucy's dressing table, a heavy one carved from polished pink-and-green-mottled stone. Peter had found a large chunk of the material and had it fashioned into a comb, claiming that the two colors reminded him of Lucy. Susan knew what he meant; the sweet green was the color of Lucy's spring-like hopefulness, the fiery coral-pink was indicative of her ardor. It was a color combination that the younger Queen delighted in, and she had taken to using it in her suite and even her clothing. The dressing gown she wore was bright pink, with green birds and flowers embroidered at the sleeves and hem.

As Susan drew the comb through Lucy's wet hair, the familiar motion caused a soft smile to touch her lips. How many years had they sat like this, the older sister behind the younger, gently smoothing away the tangles? She had always loved the repetitive motion, and the sensation of her darling sister growing relaxed and sleepy against her knee. As a little girl Lucy had sat in Susan's lap, a tiny thing bundled in snuggly robes and cradling stuffed animals. In later years she knelt on the bed in front of her sister. And as she grew taller, her hair long and rippling, Lu found it necessary to sit on a hassock at her sister's feet while Susan sat in an armchair. But always there remained the constancy of the older Queen and sister caring for the younger.

The comb caught in a tangle and Lucy winced. Susan quickly put her hand on top of the younger woman's head and began working the comb free. Lucy held perfectly still, her arms wrapped tight around her knees.

"It's worst on the bottom," she muttered. "Aslan only knows why. Most of the snarls on top came out easily enough."

Frowning, the older sister pushed the top layer of Lu's hair away to reveal a mass of knots and dried stickiness at the base of her neck.

"Dear me," she murmured. "No wonder you couldn't get this all out." As lightly as possible, she began work on the mess. But judging from her little sister's grunts and squeaks, Susan's attempts to be gentle weren't quite enough. "Am I hurting you?" she asked worriedly.

"Go on," Lucy said through clenched teeth. "Must be a beast of a knot to sting so."

Susan pressed her lips together and was about to try the comb on another side of the tangle, when a soft gleam under the layers of Lucy's hair caught her attention. She pushed the tangled auburn tresses up off of the base of her sister's skull. A thick trickle of blood spilled down Lucy's neck.

"_Lucy! _You're bleeding!"

"_What?"_

Susan parted her sister's hair to reveal a deep gash just above the bottom of her hairline. Fresh blood seeped over the dried stuff around the wound, seeming almost eager to escape the knotted mess that had caused it to clot in the first place. Susan grabbed up a damp towel, ignoring Lu's gasp of pain as she pressed it against the wound anxiously.

"How did _that _happen?" she demanded, pulling the now-soaked towel away.

"I don't recall," Lucy winced. "Too much happened all at once."

"Something must have struck you. This is no sword or arrow wound…" Susan examined the injury with a practiced eye, staunchly ignoring the jolt in her stomach that the sight of blood always caused.

"I… I did fall off the horse," Lucy murmured, her face pale with pain. "I suppose it happened then…"

"You hit your head?" Susan took a long worried look at her sister, then got to her feet. "Where's your cordial?"

"Surely it's not that bad!" Lucy protested, her fingers seeking the wound hiding in her wet hair.

"It's bad enough," Susan countered, silently chastising herself for not having seen the signs earlier. Lucy, falling from her horse, losing her footing on the pavement, stumbling against Susan's shoulder… acting dizzy, sleepy, slurring her words… as if suffering from injury…

The elder Queen yanked the pillows from the head of the bed, recalling that Lucy always slept with her cordial in reach, just as Susan did with her gifts and their brothers with their swords. A reassuring bottle of red-and-gold lay under the pillows, and Susan snatched it up.

"Susan!" Lucy protested. "Honestly, you needn't-"

Her sister already had the stopper off and the bottle tipped against her mouth. A drop of liquid fell on Lucy's lips. "Swallow," Susan commanded, capping the bottle.

Sighing, Lucy licked her lips and swallowed. A little bit of the paleness left her face and the tension seemed to go out of her. She leaned back against Susan, pressing a hand to her face.

Shuddering, Susan pushed her sister's hair back with her hand, both relieved and sickened to see a healed-over scar mingled with still-fresh blood. "Thank Aslan you had me comb your hair," she murmured. She picked up the comb and went back to working diligently at the remaining knots. In the end, most of them came out. Susan was surprised to see that the short locks of new growth at the base of Lu's neck curled right up, until she recalled that, once upon a time, Lucy's hair _had _been curly…

_… delicate strands of auburn, soft and silky… baby curls on little Lucy's newborn head…_

Susan abruptly dropped the wet mane of hair and pressed a kiss to the back of her sister's head.

"Susan?" Lucy stopped fiddling with the tassels on her robe and peered over her shoulder.

"It's nothing, dear," the elder Queen said quietly. "I'm only glad you're safe."

Lu dropped her head back against her sister's knees. "I pray the same for Peter and Edmund." She hesitated. "Susan, I do wish you would have let me-"

"Hush," Susan interrupted. "No, Lucy."

Her sister closed her eyes and sighed.

They sat quietly for a time, Susan running the comb through Lucy's hair. Lu grew more and more relaxed with the familiar sensation, just as the Queen intended her to, and seemed less inclined to speak of impossibilities. Susan bit her lip. She didn't want to speak of this. She had hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Lu was a sensible girl, but…

_Better safe than sorry._

"Lucy," said Susan, "I want you to promise me something."

The younger woman opened her eyes slowly. "What is it?" she murmured in a drowsy voice.

"It's something I've been meaning to talk to you about…"

Her little sister lifted her eyebrows questioningly.

"Promise me you'll never join our brothers on the battlefield."

Lucy sat straight up in surprise. "Why, Susan!"

"Promise me, Lucy!" the Queen insisted. "It's bad enough that Peter and Edmund almost get killed every other day, but you…"

"Susan! You've had to fight for your life before!"

"But it was always because of surprise attacks or some such thing… self-defense. I've never willingly gone on an attack and I don't want you to, either. I don't think it's our place."

"Why?" Lucy demanded. "Because we're women?"

"Partly," Susan admitted. "Father Christmas did say we weren't meant to be in battle-"

"He meant _that particular battle!"_

"- and Aslan has kept us two out of the wars ever since," Susan continued. "Don't you see, dear? I don't think he wants us to fight."

Lucy sat staring at her for a moment, a deep frown on her face. "Susan," she said finally, "Do you think the titles Aslan gave us mean anything?"  
"Why, of course," Susan exclaimed, confused.

"I do, too," Lucy replied, nodding. "I think that Aslan meant to encourage us to act in accordance with the names he gave us. Peter, magnificent. High King and high example of Aslan's wish for us all. Defense of his country is his calling, Susan. You know he is not a violent man and hates war, but he will do what he thinks is needed. Edmund, just. The one who must consider if a punishment is too harsh or not harsh enough. He's told each of us, I think, how he wishes there was another way. I don't envy him his duty, sister, and can only be thankful that Aslan helps him in this."

Lucy smiled and reached to brush her fingers over her sister's perfectly smooth hair. "And you, Susan. My Queen, my gentle one. It is your quality that I love most. It is your title that I think most personifies Aslan's desire for every Narnian. It is natural that you would desire peace. Natural that you would abhor violence in thought and deed. But Susan…" Lucy gently caught one of her sister's hands in her own and locked eyes with her. "Sister, what is the meaning of _my _title, of valiant?"

Susan shuddered, knowing where this was heading.

Lucy remained silent, waiting for her sister to accept what had been a long time coming.

"Valiant," Susan finally said miserably, "Means to act with bravery."

Lucy nodded. "To _act _with bravery," she repeated. "Not just to be brave in my heart… perhaps not even to _be _brave, but to follow the path of bravery. You say you don't think we are meant to fight. I should have liked to believe that as well." She knelt in front of the elder Queen, tilting her head back to stare into her eyes. "Susan, dear. Aslan has spoken of this to me."

Susan gave a small cry of distress.

"I didn't want to heed him," Lucy said quickly. "It has never been my wish to be in battle, and I didn't think it was his either, but…" the young woman gave a wry smile. "I've always wanted to be brave enough to do whatever Aslan asked me to do. He has asked me to do this."

"Oh Lucy…"

"I can't deny him, Susan. You and our brothers have done your duties well and in accordance with your titles." Lucy caught Susan's face in her hands. "Now I ask your blessing to do mine."

"Lucy, please don't!" Susan felt tears pushing at her eyes.

_"Shhh…" _the younger Queen rubbed her small fingers gently against her sister's cheek. "I'm sorry Sister. I never want to cause you pain. I thought of speaking to Peter first, but…" Her eyes widened a little. "You are my sister. I wanted to talk to _you."_

Susan shook her head, unable to speak. Little Lucy… her innocent baby sister, a soldier! It was unfathomable, unthinkable… and unfair! She had always been as peace-loving as Susan. Susan knew that Lucy was no fool. She had never been interested in doing anything for show, nor had she ever acted as if she had anything to prove.

But as ever, if something was requested of her by the Lion, she would do it.

Susan shook her head, stroking her sister's damp hair back behind her ears. "Lucy, I cannot give you my blessing until I have spoken of this to Peter. And I ask you not to - to act on Aslan's… request… until then."

Lucy sat staring up at her sister. But then a small smile touched her lips, and she reached to embrace the Queen.

"Of course, Susan dear," she said softly.

**_To Be Continued_**

*******

**Hello Everyone! This was originally going to be just a one-shot, but it grew to such a length that I think it would be best to make it a three chapter story... I intend to have the other two chapters up by the end of next week at the latest. ****This is probably the most heavily edited fic I've written yet, and I'm still writing and revising the other chapters. Isn't it funny how writing works? I wound up cutting a lot of elements that I though were essential in the beginning, only to find that they were getting in the way of the story. The original inspiration for this fic actually doesn't even make a cameo appearance! ****I must say, I have very much enjoyed playing with Susan ever since I wrote her chapter of "After the End." Peter and Edmund will also get their say in this story, but Queen Susan shall continue to be the main presence.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Thank you, C.S. Lewis.

**Rated: T **for intensity.

**Pevensie Ages: **Lucy 19, Edmund 21, Susan 23, Peter 24.

**Enjoy!**

*******

Susan sought out her elder brother's counsel almost as soon as he came home.

She hated to do it. Both Peter and Edmund were mostly uninjured; bruised and cut up, perhaps, but not truly injured. Edmund had fallen hard on his knee and favored it when he walked. Peter had been struck in the back by a Minotaur (doubtless remnants of Jadis's army… they were still finding them, after all these years) and was obviously uncomfortable. But neither was seriously hurt. And Lucy's timely warning had allowed them to vanquish the Minotaur gathering before it had a chance to rally. As a result, the struggle was much shorter than it might have been, and few challengers escaped the Narnian army. The Kings had managed a quick victory with few losses.

But they were tired. Winning battles made Narnia stronger, but so many years of fighting for their lives had made Susan's brothers fall into a pattern: throw every ounce of strength and skill into surviving, then succumb to exhaustion once safely home. Peter in particular, the Queen knew, would likely sleep for a full day if given the chance. She and Lucy could come and go in his rooms while he slept, bringing flowers, smoothing quilts, or simply watching him in silent thankfulness, and he would never wake. It was a disconcerting habit that she had finally reconciled herself to. Normally Susan would do everything in her power to get Peter to eat a good meal, take a hot bath, and then go straight to bed.

So she regretted having to catch at the High King's arm as he slowly rose from the dinner table, and murmur to him, "I must speak with you alone."

Peter looked at her in mild surprise, then turned his head to glance at the two younger Pevensies. Lucy was helping Edmund to his feet, a look of concern fluttering over her face when he put weight on his obviously sore knee and winced. Lu hastened to stand by his side, and Ed leaned heavily on her shoulder. But more from affection than from need, Susan realized a moment later, when she saw him smile haphazardly at his little sister. The elder Queen tugged at Peter's arm gently.

"Very well," said the High King, leading Susan away from the dining room. He asked no questions, but strode with her down the hall that led to the four sovereigns' private quarters, and down a short flight of steps to his study. Once the door had been shut, he gestured for Susan to have a seat. "Now, Sister, what troubles you? For I can see by your face that this is a matter of no little import."

The Queen gave a short, unhappy laugh and began fiddling with the paperweight on Peter's desk. "Indeed it is not, Brother." She frowned, and ran her capable fingers over the surface of the weight. "Lucy," she said slowly, "has told me that Aslan wants her to join you and Edmund in battle."

Peter drew a sharp breath, and his face went tight, but he remained silent.

"She wanted to go after you two, the day of the attack, but I forbade it. It's a good thing I did, Peter. When I was combing her hair I found out that she'd been struck in the head-"

Peter gasped in alarm and leapt for the door.

"She's alright," Susan said hurriedly, setting down the weight and holding her hands out to her brother. "I made her take some of the cordial."

The King took her hands and sat heavily down on the edge of his desk. "Good," he murmured, relief clear on his face.

Seeing Peter so exhausted and anxious made Susan feel even more wretched for having kept him from his rest. "She's fine, Peter," she repeated. "But for this business about joining the army."

Peter shook his head. "I've seen it coming."

"But Lu has _never _wanted to fight! She said so herself."

"No," said Peter in a quiet, thoughtful voice. "But she has a warrior's spirit about her. And I believe she would do whatever was necessary to protect Narnia." He sighed and put his hands on Susan's shoulders. "I never intended to bring the subject up, you know. I thought that if Lu wanted to join the army, she would speak to me about it."

"She mentioned that," Susan admitted. "But she said… because we are sisters…"

Peter nodded. "I know. Ed and I sometimes discuss things between us before we tell you girls." He picked up the weight that his sister had been playing with. It looked so much smaller in his hands, Susan noted distractedly. Even with slumped shoulders and a weary countenance, Peter radiated strength and protectiveness. Susan had often tried to thank him for being the steady bulwark their family needed, but he always just laughed it off and hugged her, saying, "And why should I do anything but what is best for my sisters and brother?"

She was shocked, therefore, when the next words on his lips were, "Well… I suppose we shall have to talk to Oreius about Lu getting in some training…"

_"Peter!" _She was on her feet, horrified. "You can't be serious! You _cannot _let Lucy join the army!"

"I never said any such thing, did I?" Peter retorted.

"No, but you _did _say something about training her," Susan snapped. "Which means you do look at her as a _potential_ member of the army, correct?"

Peter nodded tiredly. "Correct, My Lady of Logic."

"But there are more than enough soldiers!"

"Oh, hang it all, Su! That's not the point! Lu feels compelled to fight. She isn't a child, you know. Letting her train is the very least I can do to dignify her request… assuming she makes it," he added.

"So you're going to let her fight?"

"I don't know yet, Susan!"

_"Peter! _This is no time to be indecisive! Think of what this means, to Lucy, to _us. _Aren't you the least bit worried about what could happen to her?" Susan demanded.

Peter's face went rigid, and he carefully put the paperweight down before turning to his sister. "Of course," he whispered. "Do you think, my Queen, that I would send our sister into the front lines? I would rather cut my own throat than do such a thing. But as it is Aslan's wish for Lucy to defend Narnia…" His voice trailed away, but he managed a grim smile. "I was thinking of putting her in with the archers. She'll be far from the height of danger, and I'll fear less for her safety there."

"Oh, you don't understand at all!" cried poor Susan. "Don't you see? It's not simply death or injury I fear for Lucy."

"No?" Peter's eyes went wide in surprise.

Susan shook her head, feeling the tears that she had been holding back begin to fall. "I fear she won't be _Lucy _anymore."

Her older brother stared at her for a long moment, then pulled her into his arms.

Susan buried her face against his chest. "How long will it last, Peter?" she whispered, clutching at the front of his tunic. "How long will she be the same, sweet girl if you let her go to war? I've seen you and Edmund." She tilted her chin up to look at him, at the tight lines in his face and the weariness in his eyes, at the scars of the recent battle. Even his thick blond hair seemed tired and limp, and Susan distractedly reached to brush it from his eyes. "Every year of our reign, I've watched you both. You've grown and become strong, fine men whom I am proud to call my brothers. But there is a tension about you both. A wariness, even when you are home and meant to be at ease. It is like you can never rest again." Susan shook her head. "It isn't just being King that has changed you, Peter. It is war. It is…" She swallowed, unsure if she was about to trespass on the dangerous ground of her brother's conscience. "Losing the innocence… of not knowing what it is like to kill."

Peter stood silent, his arms still linked protectively around her.

"Do you deny it?" she asked quietly.

"No, I do not." Peter shook his head. "Edmund and I have discussed this at length. I suppose we see it better in each other than ourselves."

"It saddens you to see Edmund losing that innocence you love, does it not?"

Peter nodded tightly.

"And it saddens me to think of _Lucy _having to know what war is really like. She's already changed too much, Peter… I can't bear to see the change_ this_ will bring about."

Susan blinked hard, recalling the ingenuous little Lucy of long ago. Too long ago. She touched the side of Peter's face, causing him to look into her eyes.

"She means to ask each of us for our blessing in this matter, my Brother. I said I would not give her mine if you did not approve it. Say you won't let her go to war, Peter. She will obey your wishes."

The High King drew back, staring at his sister. "You ask me," he said slowly, "To tell her to disobey Aslan."

The Queen straightened her back and locked eyes with him.

"I ask you," she said in a slow, deliberate voice, "to guard your sister Queen from an evil she does not completely understand. At least promise me, Peter, that you will say nothing of the so-called 'glory' of war, or 'duty,' or 'honor,' or any such words that might encourage her, until you have first told her what she would face."

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. "You may be sure I will do so, Milady."

"Immediately?" Susan pressed.

"Of course. But," He opened his eyes, looking steadily at her. "I cannot guarantee the outcome of the discussion. If Aslan-"

"I know," Susan interrupted, feeling rather worn. "We all bow to Aslan."

***

Susan and Peter entered the family's sitting room in time to catch sight of Edmund hugging their younger sister tightly, his dark head buried in her shoulder. A swift glance passed between the older two, and Susan motioned for Peter to follow her back into the hall. But Edmund, ever aware of his surroundings, looked up sharply. Susan's heart folded in on itself at the sight of her brother's face. He appeared calm, but pale, and his eyes had an overly-bright look as his fingers clenched the cloth of Lucy's sleeve. He stared wordlessly at first Peter and then Susan. Slowly, the younger man bent to kiss his sister on the top of her head, and then let her go.

Lucy looked up and followed the path of his gaze. "Susan, Peter!" she said in soft surprise. Her eyes flickered between them, taking in the tension on their faces, before settling on Peter.

He cleared his throat. "Lucy…" The he stopped, and threw a pained look at the other two.

"Come," Susan whispered, leading Edmund into the hall.

For a time they walked in silence, arm in arm, each brooding in quiet. The Cair at this hour was calm, and the creatures they encountered were full of sweet wishes for good rest, good dreams, and good health to the sovereigns. Normally Susan would have been charmed by the kind little Hedgehog who offered to bring soothing herbal teas should King Peter be unable to sleep, the Badger who faithfully turned down King Edmund's bed every evening, and the young Nightingale who could think of no better way to spend the evening than singing intricate, ancient lullabies for Queens Susan and Lucy. Edmund would have been ready to tease them with comments about how, after all these years, the faithful Animals still couldn't get over pampering their Kings and Queens to death.

Tonight their gallantry touched the core of the Queen's emotions too deeply, and she could only nod to the little Mouse who tugged at her skirts and asked in a whisper if Queen Susan wouldn't like a posy for her pillow tonight. Having received Her Majesty's approval, the little minister of kindness bowed and scampered away in delight. Edmund cast his sister a glance, and as one they turned away from the Great Hall and into one of the smaller courtyards. It was known to be a private retreat of the sovereigns, and not even their subjects' great love would intrude on them here in the starlit coolness.

Finally Edmund spoke.

"She said she talked to you first."

Susan nodded. "The day of the attack. She wanted to go after you and Peter to be a guide, but I wouldn't let her."

"Nor would we have," said Edmund gruffly. "We'd have sent her straight back to the castle with a guard and strict orders not to leave her room."

"As if she would have stood for such a thing," Susan giggled. She was surprised to find that she could actually laugh.

Her brother was startled, too. But he smiled and took a firmer grip on her arm. "Lu has always done what she thought was right. But she's not one to disobey a direct order. I told her I wouldn't approve of such a thing if Peter didn't. And Peter…" his voice trailed away.

"Has always done what _he _thought was right," Susan finished, soft despair in her tone.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Edmund said hollowly.

Susan swallowed. "I think he means to give her his blessing, Edmund."

Her brother turned his head away, but Susan felt the quiver that ran through him at her words. She turned to press her forehead against his shoulder.

"So," she said after a moment, her voice tight, "What shall we do if he says yes?"

"What do you mean, Su?"

"Neither of us has promised Lucy our blessings," Susan said patiently. "She won't go if all three of us are not in agreement."

Her brother stared at her, dark eyes wide. "Why Susan! Do you really think our opinions will keep Lucy from doing what Aslan tells her to?"

"Why not? We're her siblings! We know what's best for her."

"Do we?" Ed raised an eyebrow at his sister.

"Of course we do!"

"And what is that?"

Susan shook her head in frustration. "What's best for Lucy is whatever will keep her _safe. _Whatever will keep her happy and healthy and _alive."_

Edmund nodded slowly. He tipped his head back for a moment, and studied the night sky. "Look, Su. See The Leopard?"

Susan followed the line of his outstretched arm to the constellation, hanging low in the Narnian heavens, and nodded. "Yes, I see."

"Is it not amazing," said Edmund softly, "To think that such beauty is the result of Aslan's good pleasure? That he could create the awesome mountains and the unfathomable seas, and still think of such a lovely thing as pictures in the sky…" He shook his head in wonder. "It still astounds me, Sister."

The Queen turned her gaze from the stars, and looked to her brother's countenance, drenched in pale moonlight. Edmund slowly lowered his dark eyes to hers.

"And is it not reassuring, Susan, that the one who made all of this has in his paws the power to protect our sister in battle?"

Susan groaned and sank down on a bench. "Edmund…"

"Su…" He knelt in front of her. "Don't you think _Aslan _can keep Lu safe? Don't you see how happy he's made her? Don't you see that he would do all in his power to preserve her?" Edmund took her hands in his, staring steadily into her face. "And do you think it is wise to deny someone who _wants _to do these things for her?"

"Soldiers still _die, _Edmund," Susan said through clenched teeth. "No matter how they cry out for Aslan's protection, they still fall. They still grow jaded, and old before their time. What makes you think our sister's fate will be any different if she goes to war?"

Edmund's face grew tight, and he wearily pulled himself up onto the bench beside her. "The brother in me can't help but agree with you, Susan. But the King in me, the servant of Aslan…" He shook his head. "No matter what happens, to Lucy, to Peter, to you, I must know that Aslan has his reasons." He tipped his head back again, staring at the sky. "And they are reason enough for me to give Lu my blessing. Provided Peter does, of course."

"You've made your decision then?" Susan asked in a tight voice.

"I'm not sure," Edmund murmured. "I know what my good sense is telling me but… it's still not easy."

***

They were sitting in the courtyard when they heard Peter's footsteps in the Hall.

Edmund got to his feet hurriedly, clutching Susan's hand. Despite his confident words earlier, she knew that he was just as nervous as she over Peter's decision. There was still a chance, after all, that Lucy might be swayed by the High King's authority. And Peter, Susan was sure, was not at all reconciled to the idea of his baby sister fighting in any war. If it were simply that, Susan was sure her brother wouldn't even consider letting Lucy fight, grown woman though the youngest royal was. But Aslan… Aslan complicated the whole thing… The Queen bit her lip as her elder brother appeared in the door, a strong, tall silhouette against the bright torchlight.

But as soon as she saw Peter's face, Susan knew.

Edmund knew it too. Susan felt his hand clench her fingers convulsively as he spoke in a somber voice. "You said yes?"

Peter nodded and strode toward them. He said nothing, but a look passed between the brothers, and then Edmund stepped aside, allowing Peter to take a seat on the bench beside his sister. The High King took Susan's hand. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his grasp and shook her head. Peter seemed to understand.

"It wasn't an easy decision, you know," he said gently.

Susan stared down at her hands in her lap, saying nothing.

"I won't let her go until I'm convinced she can defend herself," Peter tried again. "She has months of training ahead of her, Susan. She needs to learn something of swordsmanship, and to improve her horseback riding-"

"Philip will take care of her," Edmund interjected. "There's none better to teach her than that Horse."

Peter nodded. "And of course," he said softly, "She'll need the best archer in Narnia to teach her the finer points of handling a bow."

Susan jerked to her feet, blue eyes snapping. "I am _not _going to take part in this," she hissed. "I don't approve of it, and I'm not going to condone it by participating!"

"Susan, be reasonable," Edmund pleaded. "Lu's the least likely person to get hurt in a battle. She's too tiny to make a good target, for one thing. And she's got the cordial, should anything-"

"I've ordered her not to take the cordial with her," Peter interrupted.

Susan's mouth opened wide in a soundless cry of shock, staggered that her brother could be so rash.

"_Peter!" _Edmund gasped.

"Hear me," the King said quickly. "I have my reasons. It is meant to be an incentive to her. I don't want Lu to take any unnecessary risks. She'll be less likely to try anything foolhardy without that cordial around-"

"That's never stopped you two_ fools_ from risking life and limb!" Susan snapped out. "What makes you think Lucy will be any different?"

Her brothers paled and shared a glance, but were silent.

She made a sound of disgust. "Well, I'll tell you then. It _won't _be any different. If anything, it will be _worse, _because Lucy is so driven by love for Narnia and Aslan, a love that is almost a _passion._ And there you have it." The Queen pressed her lips together in a tight line. "Lucy would _die _for Narnia, cordial or no cordial, Peter Pevensie."

The High King was very quiet. "I know," he said at last.

"You _know,"_ Susan repeated flatly. "You know and yet you said yes?"

"Yes."

"_Why?"_

The High King sighed. "Because it is her right."

Susan threw her hands up in the air. "She hasn't any right at all! Aslan has _ordered _her to do this! She's had no choice whatsoever-"

"Susan, sit down," said Edmund.

"- and yet all three of you act as if this is the most natural thing in the world! Lucy going to war – _to war, Peter!" _the Queen shouted, thoroughly forgetting herself. _"You _know what war is like, _you _know what it is to kill, _you _know what it is to see soldiers die, _you know-"_

"_Yes I know!" _Peter suddenly yelled back, rising to face his angry sister. "I _know, _Susan, what it is like to watch good beings go to their deaths! I _know _what it is like to watch my beloved brother grow expert in the practice of slaying foes." He grabbed Edmund's shoulder tight, casting him a pained glance. He looked to the Queen, and shook his head. "I _know, _Sister. I fear as you do. But Lucy is a free Narnian."

"Susan," said Edmund gently, "It will be worse for Lucy if we deny her this."

"How could it possibly be worse?" Susan snapped.

"By forcing her to choose between Aslan and us! Don't you see? It will tear her apart!"

"He's right, Su," Peter spoke up. "Lucy will lose heart if we don't let her do this."

"I'd rather she lose heart a little than lose her life!" Susan retorted.

"Really, Susan?" Ed raised his brows at her. "Have you any idea what that would mean? I fear she'd never get over such a thing. That the fire in her heart would fade, and her with it."

Exhausted, Susan gave a little cry of defeat. She flopped back down on the bench and put her face in her hands.

"And do you know," said Peter's quiet voice, "What that would do to her?"

"What?" asked Susan wearily.

Her brother tapped his finger under her chin. Reluctantly, Susan looked up into his face. Peter searched her reproachful eyes, kindness and resolve in his expression.

"What I fear," he said firmly, "Is that forcing her to deny Aslan would make her so unlike herself that she would be unrecognizable to us." He paused, then quoted Susan's own words back to her:

_"I fear she won't be Lucy anymore."_

**_To Be Continued_**

*******

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for your beautiful reviews of Chapter 1 and some really lively PM's as well! I'm glad people are liking this, because it was a joy to write... especially this chapter! The individual conversation Susan has with Peter in the study is my personal favorite.**

**This is set a few years before HHB, obviously, which gives Lu plenty of time to train in the ways of battle.**

**Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed... The concluding chapter will be up this weekend.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Thank you, C.S. Lewis.

**Rated: T **for intensity

*******

Susan lay staring into the dark. The insistent thudding of her heart in her ears drowned out the smaller sounds of nocturnal creatures attending to their quiet duties. The Queen had lain awake for hours as she went over every word of her conversations with Peter and Edmund, and she knew that on the morrow she would have a terrible headache.

It didn't help that the early summer night rumbled with far-away heat lightning, and the air felt heavy with moisture. Susan turned over in an attempt to find a cool spot on the bed, pushing her long, dark braids up onto the pillow and away from her neck. Her skin felt slick with sweat. If only it wasn't so hot!

… _if only Peter had the least bit of sense. If only Edmund had sided with me. If only Lu wasn't so stubborn. If only Aslan hadn't asked so much of us all…_

The Queen rose on her elbow, kicking irritably at the long nightgown that dragged at her body when she moved. Her toe caught in the ruffled hem, and a ripping noise caused her to moan in frustration. Susan flopped onto her back and fanned at her face. So terribly hot! She couldn't breathe, and her thoughts chased themselves around and around, like a moth dizzying itself over a flame. She grimaced, annoyed with herself for having come up with such an ironic simile. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe. Inevitably, her thoughts smothered her.

… _how could he have asked her in the first place? What could Lucy possibly do that any other soldier couldn't? If Peter allowed her to take the cordial there might be sense in it. But there isn't. No sense. No logic. Not a whit…_

"_Susan."_

She must have fallen asleep. The voice caused her eyes to snap open and her lungs to suck in a sharp dose of sweltering air. Susan turned her head, staring at the solemn figure crouched at her bedside.

"Aslan," she said flatly.

The Lion said nothing, merely stared at her out of great, golden eyes.

Susan sat up, her own blue eyes boring straight into Aslan's gaze with the look she always gave to her siblings whenever she thought they were being particularly foolish. The Lion stared steadily back. The Queen dropped her gaze.

"How _could_ you?" she said in a low voice.

"Of what do you speak, Daughter of Eve?" came the rumbled reply.

"_Of what?" _repeated Susan. "I speak of my sister, Aslan, my _only _sister. I speak of the indignity you require of her, of your command that she become a soldier and fight-"

"I did not command her."

The Queen stared. "You jest."

"I do not."

"But she said-"

"Lucy said," the Lion calmly interrupted, "That I had _spoken _of this to her, did she not?"

"She said you asked something of her…"

Aslan smiled. "She first asked something of _me, _Susan. She asked that I tell her what more she could do to serve Narnia. What_ I_ asked of her was that she search her heart, and to allow what she found there to guide her."

Susan shook her head in disbelief. "But she said she didn't _want _to fight!"

"It is one thing to want to do something," the Lion said thoughtfully, his tail flicking from side to side. "And another thing entirely to feel _convicted. _Just as your brothers do not _want _to allow Lucy to fight, but feel _convicted _to give their approval."

The Queen averted her gaze. "I do _not _feel convicted," she said in a steely voice. "In fact I feel more compelled to knock some sense into all three of them… _and you."_

"That is your right."

She stared at him. "You understand why I oppose this?"

"I understand, more even than you know. Lucy is dear to you. You are accustomed to sheltering her from evil, and you are reluctant to give her up to anyone's protection. Even mine," he said solemnly.

The Queen pressed her lips into a firm line. "Aren't you going to command me to give my approval?"

"And what would be accomplished by that?" asked the Lion. "You have free will, Susan. Just as Lucy and your brothers have. I can command you all I wish, and you shall only do my will if you allow yourself to. But what I _want, _Susan, is to know that you will of your own accord do what you can to serve me. Your sister's heart is very great. It is her wish to give as much as she can of herself to others."

Susan shook her head. "I fear she gives too much, Aslan."

He tilted his head, his golden eyes locked on hers. "Is the Phoenix not born anew with every sacrifice? Lucy is as passionate as a bird of fire, and just as full of faith."

"But she'll _change," _protested Susan. "Narnia loves Lu because of who she is! _I _love her because of who she is. War can only make her different. She's changed too much already. I don't want to lose her…"

Aslan considered her. "You fear that by allowing Lucy to fight, she will grow distant from you?"

"Yes."

"And your brothers," the Lion rumbled softly, "Has leading an army made them break faith with you?"

Susan blinked. "Why… no," she admitted. "They've been – they've been wonderful. To me and to Lu."

"And why should Lucy act any differently?"

Susan found she had no answer.

The Lion jumped from the floor to the bed, settling himself next to her as lightly as a bird. Susan suddenly felt unsure of herself, and began playing with the torn edge of her gown. Aslan seemed to understand. He nudged at her so she would look up.

"Do not fear for her," he said gently. "Lucy is too full of love to ever be lost to you. And she'll not lose herself, either."

"But when Father Christmas told us we weren't to fight… I thought that was _your _wish. You say this was Lucy's idea." She tilted her head. "Do _you _approve?"

"How could I not, Susan? Her motives are as selfless as I could desire. And consider this, Dear one. There may come a time when you also will feel compelled to ask of yourself what more you may do."

She shuddered. "I don't think I'm ready for that, Aslan. I'm not Lucy, you know… I could never be so brave," she admitted softly.

"Susan, you already are." The Lion smiled at her surprised expression. "Do you not think that it takes bravery to surrender your brothers and sister to their duties? Does it not take courage to tell them goodbye and trust that they will return to you? Are you not brave when you turn a smiling face to your subjects and make plans for a triumphant return? Are you not showing bravery when an Eagle spies Narnia's army returning from battle, close enough for him to see that there are fewer in the ranks, but not close enough to tell you if your brothers have survived? Does it not take courage to see them wounded, to know that you might have lost them? Are you not brave, Susan, when you have endured all of this not once, not twice, but hundreds of times? Susan," Aslan said firmly, "You are very brave indeed."

"But it's so hard! All of that…what you just said. I don't do it so well as you say I do, Aslan." Susan stared down at her hands.

He brushed his face against hers. Susan found herself nose-to-nose with the Lion.

"That," he said slowly, "Is your battle to fight."

The Queen felt her breath hitch in her chest.

"Your brothers and sister shall war against swords and arrows. You shall war against uncertainty and strained hopes. That is _your_crusade, Daughter of Eve." Aslan nodded slowly, smiling into her eyes. "And if you put your trust in me Susan, and are not afraid to call to me when overwhelmed, then you shall be victorious."

Susan's eyes lit with hope. "And... my brothers and sister? Will they always come home to me, Aslan?"

"That is not your story," said Aslan gently. "You must trust me with theirs. I have it in my power to make this easier for you, if you will let me. But you must first trust me."

It wasn't precisely what she wanted to hear. But then, Susan mused, when had Aslan ever told anyone what _they _wanted? And yet things always seemed to work out.

"Aslan help me," she finally whispered.

"Susan," he purred, "You know I always shall."

She reached for him, pressing her face into the Lion's mane, winding her fingers into the rough, golden threads, not caring that the heat would make an embrace unbearable… and yet… Susan blinked in surprise. Her hands and face… they felt so cool! The deeper she sank into the wild mane, the more the coolness seemed to spill over her, streaming from head to toe as surely as water from a jug. In fact she felt as refreshed as if she had bathed in the deepest pond. She sighed and closed her eyes, listening to Aslan's rumbling purring, a sense of wonder pouring over her.

Susan didn't know how long she had relaxed in the Lion's paws before she felt a soft nudge at her face. She opened her eyes to find Aslan's golden gaze fixed on her.

"Susan, Dear one. Can you be brave now?"

"I – I don't know yet, Aslan. I can try."

He nodded gravely. "It shall be well with you, daughter." He rose and jumped silently to the floor. "Come."

Susan swung her feet over the edge of the bed and followed Aslan to the door, grateful for the cool stone on her soles. The halls of the Cair were silent, darker and stuffier than Susan's own room. But as long as the Queen kept her hands sunk deep in the Lion's mane, coolness seemed to touch her. She walked with Aslan as he padded down one corridor and then another, until at last they stood outside the door to Peter's room. Thinking that the Lion meant for her to check on her brother's rest as she always did after he came home from battles, Susan reached for the doorknob. A sharp voice stilled her fingers.

"Why didn't you mention that earlier?"

"I didn't want it to sound like we were ganging up on you-"

"Ed! This is Lucy's _life _we're talking about here! If you think I shouldn't have agreed to-"

"Peter." There was a long sigh. "It was the right decision, okay? I just wanted you to know how I feel about it."

"And I just wish you'd said something!"

"Would it have changed your decision? Would you have ordered Lucy to disobey Aslan?"

Silence.

"Thought not."

"Edmund… I shouldn't have to make that decision at all. I shouldn't _have _to send my brother and sister into battle. It's not fair. By Aslan…"

"So I'm not the only one having doubts?"

A derisive snort. "You heard Susan, didn't you?"

"I'm talking about _you, _Pete."

Susan couldn't distinguish the muffled reply that followed. Then she looked down and realized that Aslan had gone. Hesitantly, she pushed the door open.

Her brothers sat facing one another, looking as miserably hot as she had felt not long before. The High King had his face buried in Edmund's shoulder, despite the fact that sweat clung to him. The younger King slowly brushed his fingers through Peter's damp hair, eyes shut. Susan knew she need not even guess that neither of them had slept yet. She cleared her throat.

Her brothers scrambled to their feet, hands flying for their swords, until they saw who stood in the door.

"Susan." Peter dropped back onto the sofa wearily. "Come in."

The Queen silently scolded herself for having snuck up on them. So soon after battle, they were still primed to respond to the unexpected with alarm. And now with this news about Lucy… "Sorry," she murmured.

Edmund waved a hand at her. "Never mind Su, never mind. Couldn't you sleep either?"

A voice from the hall surprised Susan. "Who could, on a night such as this?" Lucy appeared in the doorway, a full water pitcher and cup in her hands and a worn-out expression on her damp face. She tugged at the neck of her nightgown. "Drat this heat!"

"Quite correct, Sister," Peter murmured, closing his eyes briefly. "Would you take pity on your brother, and share a draught with him?"

"Certainly, Milord." Lu handed him a brimming cup, purposely allowing the water to splash on her hands. She patted at her face and sighed. "Aslan be merciful, I don't think I've known such a miserable night in years."

"We should go for a swim," Edmund muttered. "Only I'm too tired to move from this spot."

"Poor dear," Susan laughed softly. She reached to brush her brother's dark, damp curls from his face. To her surprise, he caught at her hands.

"Why Susan! Where have you been? Feel her hands, both of you. They're cool as an autumn breeze!"

The Queen stared at him in bewildered amusement as Peter and Lucy took their turns, exclaiming as they held onto her hands and nuzzled their hot faces into her palms. Then she felt a smile creep over her face. She should have guessed that Aslan's comfort would not be hers alone to partake of. She laughed softly.

"What is it?" wondered Peter.

But Lucy, with her face pressed into her sister's hand, peered up at Susan with wise eyes.

"Su?"

"Hm?"

Lucy was smiling. "You smell good too."

"Do I?" Susan lowered her eyes uncertainly.

"Mm hm." Lucy leaned forward and pressed her face against her sister's hair, breathing deeply. "You smell like Aslan, like his perfume. Only… cooler, somehow"

Trust Lucy to scent the Lion before any of them. Susan hesitated before replying in a measured voice. "He woke me. He… explained some things, Lu." She bit her lip, reaching to run her fingers through her sister's hair. "Things about you, Lucy, that I should have realized before. Like the fact that becoming a soldier was _your _idea, not his."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. _"What?"_

"I knew it," said Edmund with a shake of his head. "That was a tricky thing to do, Lucy."

"Does it really matter whose idea it is?" Lu asked quietly.

"Yes," said Susan firmly. "I want to know that nothing is being forced on you, that you're not being given too great a load to bear."

The younger Queen laughed. "Oh Susan! It's Aslan, dear. You know he would never ask more of me than I can handle."

"I know that _now. _I didn't know it then. And," she added with a wry smile, "Aslan gave me a rather thorough lecture on that indomitable nature of yours."

_"Now _do you see why I'm so stubborn? My, but the three of you take a lot of convincing! Oh, don't think I can't see right through the two of you, my Kings," she chuckled, smiling on her brothers in amusement. "I know better than to think either of you are wholly reconciled to me risking my sweet, innocent little neck."

Edmund sniffed. "Innocent, my foot! You shall confound any enemy, Milady. What think you, Pete?"

"She's risked our sister Queen's displeasure," Peter observed. "If she can survive that, I think she'll be alright on the battlefield."

Susan turned and delivered a sharp whack to her brother's arm, making sure it would sting sufficiently to provoke a loud _"Ow!" _from the High King.

Edmund laughed, retreating behind a sofa cushion when Susan turned a regal glare and a raised hand in his direction. "Hey!" he protested, "Be nice to the wounded!"

"If anything _does _befall Lucy," Susan retorted, "All _three _of you shall know my displeasure for quite some time to come."

But as their soft laughter faded, the Queen became serious. She turned to her sister.

"Lucy… I know you want to do this." She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to recall the calm she had felt in Aslan's embrace. To her amazement, it came. Not a lot. Not a huge, rolling wave of it. But just enough, like a soft patter of rain. She opened her eyes to look at Lucy and said in a firm voice. "You have my blessing, Sister."

Lucy's eyebrows rose. "I didn't really expect you to approve, you know," the young Queen murmured.

"Well," Susan managed a wavery smile at her brothers. "I'm still not sure I do."

Peter nodded, an understanding look on his face, and reached to take her hand. Susan clenched his fingers tight. It helped some. She sighed.

"But Aslan will help me, dear. And I trust him to take care of you."

Lucy seemed to turn this over in her mind, as the elder sister brushed her fingers absently over Lu's damp face. Suddenly she caught the Queen's cool hands in her own and brought them to her lips, pressing kisses into the palms.

"Thank you," Lucy said quietly.

"You won't be thanking me by midday tomorrow," said Susan, her voice tight as she reached to put her arms around Lu. She quirked an eyebrow at her sister's questioning look before continuing.

"Because once Oreius is done with you, you have archery practice with me."

*******

**Ahem... Sorry it took me so long to get this third chapter up! The plot bunny got finicky on me. But, at long last, here it is! And... it looks as if this story may not be totally done. Be on the lookout for a bonus chapter, my friends! I make no guarantees, but I do have a few pages of stuff already written, so...**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
